


don't hide what's mine and I won't shatter what's your

by BookFangirlMaryJane



Series: Thoschei Spyvember Prompts [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Custard Creams, Cute, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, HOW is custard creams not a tag yet???, Post-Episode: s12e01-02 Spyfall, Spoilers, Spyvember Prompts (Doctor Who), The Master can cook, Thoschei, Threats, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but just to be safe, mostly in regards to the Master tho, no real spoilers I think?, no really, this is the fluffiest thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27602291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookFangirlMaryJane/pseuds/BookFangirlMaryJane
Summary: They’re up there. She knows they are, she just knows it. Up there, in the furthest corner of the shelf. All the way at the back, so she can’t get to them without dragging a chair across the room and proving him right. And she’ll be damned if she gives him the satisfaction of doing that!--o--This is just a little bit of domestic Thoschei fluff.Written for Spyvember Prompt 'Standing on tip-toes'.Warning: it's incredibly fluffy. That's all.Okay, also spoilers for 12x01/02 Spyfall, but only in regards to the Master's latest disguise.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: Thoschei Spyvember Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017984
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	don't hide what's mine and I won't shatter what's your

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back for today's prompt, and while it's rather short, it's ALL-OUT FLUFF!
> 
> Please don't ask me when this happens, I have no idea. Maybe in some universe slightly to the left, where these two idiots never stopped being friends? Or maybe it's waaay after 12x10 The Timeless Children, way after they worked through their trauma and relationship problems.  
> Like I said, don't ask.
> 
> Instead, read!

They’re up there. She knows they are, she just **knows** it. Up there, in the furthest corner of the shelf. All the way at the back, so she can’t get to them without dragging a chair across the room and proving him right. And she’ll be **damned** if she gives him the satisfaction of doing that!

With a strained huff, the Doctor reaches out with one hand. The other is poised on the counter, pushing her body upwards. Her toes barely touch the ground. Her fingers grapple for the box, desperate. They’re there. She **knows** he hid them there!

Pushing herself one last inch, the Doctor finally feels something beneath her fingertips and manages to grab hold of the treasured box. Her triumph only lasts a few seconds, however, for as soon as she leans back to pull the box out, gravity grabs hold of her and she topples backwards, landing hard on the kitchen floor.

And the box she so desperately tried to reach follows her example, sliding off the shelf and slamming right into her stomach, making her groan. After a few selective, very explicit curses she sits up and looks around. No one there. Good, he hasn’t seen. Now or never.

The Doctor opens the box and grins. As quickly as possible, she stuffs as many custard creams as she can into her pockets, not caring about crumbs, and crams her mouth full with several more of the delicious biscuits.

A chuckle from the door makes her freeze. Slowly, ever so slowly, she raises her head, mouth stuffed with custard creams. The Master stands in the doorway, holding himself upright with one hand on the frame as he trembles with restrained laughter. His other hand holds a phone… with which he’s currently taking pictures of her.

“Really, Doctor, your obsession with those things is approaching addictive behavior,” he tries to scold her. It’s not as effective as he thinks it is, given that he’s visibly fighting against his amusement and she can **feel** the glee radiating off him.

With a full mouth, the Doctor glares at him and makes the rudest hand gesture she can think of. It doesn’t quite get across her anger, however, as the Master immediately breaks out into full-blown laughter and almost drops his phone on the floor from shaking so hard.

Finally, she manages to swallow down the yummy custard creams and gets off the floor. The box of biscuits mysteriously disappears into her pocket when he isn't looking. “Okay, that’s not funny.”

He seems to disagree with her, judging by his inability to stop laughing.

She sighs and pulls out her sonic. “Alright. One,” she points it at his phone and deletes everything he did in the last few minutes, “don’t take pictures of me in embarrassing situations.” He makes a noise of protest and finally starts to calm down. “Two, hide my custard cream again and I **will** retaliate. I’ll... dye your hair bright green when you’re asleep. And I’ll tell everyone I know that you’re cuddly when you’re tired.”

The mirth evaporates from his eyes in seconds. “You wouldn’t.”

She bares her teeth at him in a savage grin. “Wanna find out?”

They stand there, at a stalemate, until the Master sighs and rolls his eyes. “I won’t touch your ridiculous biscuits again, even if I think you have a problem.”

The Doctor raises a brow. “And you don’t have a problem with all those spy movies you keep watching, and those spy novels? How many of those do you own by now? Sixty?”

His expression darkens. “I don’t have a problem. It was literally my job to be a spy. So what if I realized I liked them after I did some research? Nothing wrong with that. You can’t fault me for reading books. At least I’m still eating healthy, unlike you. How many of those things do you eat on a regular day, Doctor?”

For a moment she’s silent. Thinking. Counting. Realizing the number she’s come up with might be a bit too high. Trying to think of a lower number.

“Eleven,” she blurts out.

The Master only looks at her. She fidgets. His look gets more piercing. She gives in. “Alright, about thirty-five. Thirty-nine… Okay, forty. Maybe. But! But I still eat healthy stuff. You make me healthy stuff all the time, remember?”

With a sigh he admits: “I do. Alright, I won’t bring up your biscuits if you keep eating what I make you. One healthy meal a day, at least.”

A smile spreads on her face as she approaches him. “Deal.”

They shake hands. Then the Master raises a brow, chuckles and reaches for her face. “Hang on, you’ve got…” A soft thumb brushes her lip and she feels crumbs fall away from her face. Ah. The Doctor ducks her head and blushes in embarrassment.

“Doctor, you’re adorable,” she hears the Master whisper. It makes her look up again. His eyes are soft, his lips pulled into a smile. She can’t help but smile back as he pulls her in for a kiss, sweet and tasting of tea and custard cream.

The Doctor is giggling when she pulls away and the Master is pulling a face of distaste. “Seriously, why do you like these things? They taste horrible.”

“They do not!” she starts defending her treasured biscuits, before catching sight of his smirk and quieting down again. Instead of starting an argument, she leans against him and relishes in the warmth of his body. Then she realizes something and looks up again, eyes narrowing.

“Hang on, we’re almost the same height. Did **you** use a chair to hide my custard creams up there? Or did you stand on your tip-toes, too?”

** The End **

**Author's Note:**

> Soo.
> 
> A few things: I headcanon the Master can cook and likes cooking and is the only reason the Doctor has yet to starve herself on custard creams alone. I don't know why the image of him cooking is such a nice one, but it is. He also makes fantastic tea. That's not a headcanon, that's actually canon for the Master. They make delicious tea.  
> I also headcanon that the Master got really into spy stuff. Because it's interesting and funny and spies are a very cool concept to him. So he reads a lot of spy novels and watches spy movies. What can I say? I just prefer a somewhat more educated Master over the megalomaniac Master who watched Teletubbies (seriously, Simm!Master... WHY?!)
> 
> Like I said, this is some very domestic fluff sometime either in an alternate dimension or way in the future. I don't know where the fam is. They might be at home for the weekend. They might not travel together anymore. Pick one. I focused on these two idiots exclusively, but I wouldn't dispute anyone saying the fam is there somewhere, too.
> 
> And GODDAMN TITLES! Seriously. I hate coming up with titles. I don't even know what this one is... Okay, no, I do know. It basically means the Doctor will shatter the Master's reputation if he doesn't stop hiding her custard creams. Yes. Very creative. The only other options were 'Standing on tip-toes', as it is the prompt, and 'don't hide my custard creams', but that seemed a bit too boring and obvious. Thus, cryptic but altogether needlessly mysterious title.
> 
> Kay. That's that.  
> I probably will post something tomorrow. I've got a bit already written. It's... going to be the exact opposite of this nice domestic fluff here. Very heavy angst and all. But they're still soft, so?  
> Yeah. I hope I can finish on time.
> 
> (Damn, I haven't been this productive in AGES. A new story almost every day?! Who am I and what did I do to the real me? Honestly, I've never managed to do this. And now look at me! No, actually, don't. I'm rambling. I'll stop talking now.)
> 
> Stay positive, test negative, read Thoschei!


End file.
